


Dishonour

by ashes_and_ashes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Angst, M/M, Torture, Trauma, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 02:22:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes_and_ashes/pseuds/ashes_and_ashes
Summary: Sirius scoffs. He stands, shrugging his robes off, unbuttoning his shirt. “Same as I always do. Mother came back drunk. I got Crucio’d.” He bites his lip, blood welling there, as he steps back, into the light. “What did I expect. I’ve been tortured for 4 years now. You grow used to it.”The moonlight falls on Sirius’ back, making the scars glow. Rows and rows and rows of them, layered and raised, coating his flesh like scales. 15 years of abuse, inscribed on his skin, a tale of tears and screams and torture. Carved on top is a set of livid lines; DISHONOUR.





	Dishonour

**Author's Note:**

> So this kinda turned into a very…lyrical piece? Like it’s almost a bit like one of my aesthetics post - fluffy angst.

He knew they all had secrets.

He was the bearer of so many, that he knew not to pry. He knew there were boundaries he couldn’t cross, tortures he couldn’t touch, a life wrapped up in wire and ash. He knew that some scars ran too deep, that he could do nothing but scratch the surface, and it was better to never open the wound.

So he kept silent, kept all the secrets, and never talked about it.

But he knew.

It was the unspoken rule between them, him and Sirius. Ignore the scars, ignore the wounds, the stiffness that laced Sirius’ bones, the small winces and the lip-biting and the way his eyes fluttered shut when he thought no one was looking. He was broken, desperately trying to hold himself together, pressing the pieces together so that no one could see the cracks.

They were still there, though, even if no one saw them.

It hurt. So much, Remus wanting to scream. Sirius pretended well - the wall of arrogance coming up. He watched as Sirius strutted onto the train, laughing at the Slytherins, cooing over Marlene and Lilly and Dorcas, chugging the container of Every Flavoured Beans with a smirk. He was deliberate, a beautiful whirlwind, lounging on the seat with his legs over the back and his dark hair spilling onto the ground. Carefree, laughing, perfect.

He knew him, though. He knew him so damn well, knew every small sign that he displayed. He noticed the small hesitation before every movement, the way he bit down hard on his lip before throwing his legs over his chair. The small tightening of his eyes as Peter mock-punched him in the side, pain flickering over his face for just a heartbeat, even as he tried to laugh it off. Brittle, something barely cooled, with only Sirius’ willpower holding it together.

He always was like this, after the break. Even when he was 11, cuts on his hands and a blackened eye, still sneering at the jeering Slytherins as he boarded the train. Sirius was a fighter, always had been, preferring to bear the weight himself and to suffer in silence.

They all knew, what happened at home. They couldn’t blame Sirius for trying to forget about it.

But Remus knows Sirius, as well as he knows himself. He knows his temper, his feelings and his pain. So, the minute the stars rise over the castle, Remus moves, slinging a blanket over his shoulder and pocketing his wand. He opens the window, fingers wrapping over the edge, before grasping the stone below.

They had discovered the spot together, in 3rd year, bored and restless one night. It was easily accessible, the stones forming a sort of ladder, and Remus climbs down to the main base of the castle. There’s a small nook there, tucked into the curve of the tower, the lake directly ahead, and he finds Sirius, huddled against the cold and staring out into the sky.

He’s silent, head leaning against the stone, an empty shell as the sun sets over the lake. Remus sat next to him, wrapping the blanket around them as the air grew dark.

When Sirius speaks, his voice is empty. “Do you ever wonder, how things might have turned out differently?”

Remus cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

Sirius shrugs, fingers twisting in the blankets, pressing his nails together. “I don’t know. What could have changed, had you been that much quicker, that much smarter, that much stronger. The different possibilities, how life could have changed?”

Remus brushes his hand over Sirius’, holding his fingers tight. “What happened, Sirius. What did they do to you.”

There’s dark humor in Sirius’ voice, as he says, “What did they do this time? Or just in general?” He scoffs, his voice light. “It keeps going, you see. Never stops.”

“The only time you’re like this is when you are drunk or upset,” Remus says. “What did she do to you, Sirius. What did she do?”

Sirius is quiet, fingers scraping against stone, the rocks tearing at his fingers. “What did she do.” He hisses the words, as if they are some sort of curse. “It’s not really her.” He scoffs, digging his fingers deeper into the rock. “I mean, it’s always her but…”

The words trail off, and Remus grits his teeth. “But…?”

Sirius doesn’t respond, just examines the bleeding cuts on his fingers, tiny rocks caught underneath shredded nails. With a sigh, Remus takes his hand, examining the oozing cuts. He probes a rock with his finger, and Sirius winces. “Look, Sirius. I…” He breaks off. “It’s like this rock here. See?” He touches it, with his finger, a tiny pebble wedges underneath bloody skin. “If you want, you can keep it in. And it with stay there, forever, pressing against your skin, and soon, you won’t be able to get it free. Or, you can dig it out now.” He releases the hand, letting it drop into Sirius’ lap. “Your choice.”

Sirius barely blinks. With one hand, he holds the skin on his finger apart, digging out the rock before sighing. “Look…my brother. Regulus.” He rakes a bleeding hand through his hair, pulling at the tangles. “God. I….I stay because of him. We all know it. If it wasn’t for him, I would have left her a long time ago.” He lets out a quavering breath, Remus pressing his hand closer into Sirius’. “And… I’m a scapegoat. Nothing more. And he knows it. He…” He pauses. “He found one of our letters.”

Remus is numb, the world slowly unspooling around him, bitterly clear as he breathes, “What?”

Sirius nods, biting his lip. “He read one. Something I was about to send you.”

Dear Remus. Life is shit here; Parents drunk and Regulus is a bitch. I’m sad and mopey, but I’m imaging that you got your warm, strong hands around me. (Well, we are dating, yeah?)

Remus swallows, his throat tight as he whispers, “What did he say?”

Sirius shakes his head. “Nothing. But still.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Sometimes, I wonder if my mother would let me live, seeing as I’m dating a boy.” He laughs. “Not even just that. A werewolf.”

The words hit home, Sirius flinching. “No, Re, I didn’t mean it like that, I - “

“I know.” Remus cuts him off, flexing his fingers as he whispers, “What did you do?”

Sirius scoffs. He stands, shrugging his robes off, unbuttoning his shirt. “Same as I always do. Mother came back drunk. I got Crucio’d.” He bites his lip, blood welling there, as he steps back, into the light. “What did I expect. I’ve been tortured for 4 years now. You grow used to it.”

The moonlight falls on Sirius’ back, making the scars glow. Rows and rows and rows of them, layered and raised, coating his flesh like scales. 15 years of abuse, inscribed on his skin, a tale of tears and screams and torture. Carved on top is a set of livid lines; DISHONOUR.

Remus feels nauseous, the ground spinning as he shakes his head. “No. No, she didn’t do this to you.” He brushes the skin with shaking fingers, Sirius’ eyes fluttering shut at the touch. “She was drunk. Better me then Regulus.”

Remus’ hands raise higher, around the shoulder blades, running over the scars. “No. No, she couldn’t have - “

Sirius just shakes his head, and suddenly he’s whirled, pushing Remus against the cold stones, kissing him hard. It’s an odd kiss - Sirius’ blood in Remus’ mouth, Remus’ hands moving over scared skin. It was strange, touching other scars, scars from pain instead of transformation, thin, deep lines. Sirius kisses him again, Remus pressing him tighter, and they lose themselves for one precious moment, underneath the sky.


End file.
